don't worry it won't stay this cute

[mustbethetruth]

It's a little alarming to Holmes that he enjoyed their evening. He and Watson spent most of the day with Lestrade and Mary, and he enjoyed himself, even in their silly romantic company. What this means for him, he couldn't possibly say. Is Watson softening his character to the point where he has friends, in a normal way, and he enjoys it?

Mycroft will never believe it. Actually, he might laugh at him. Holmes would be alright with that, as he feels liable to laugh at himself just now.

It's dark as they approach Baker street, and he's humming the opera for Watson's benefit. The street's fairly empty, and he's happy -- properly happy -- so he breaks away from Watson and dances with himself, only just able to stop himself from laughing and ruining the spectacle of the moment.

Comments

[lightconductor]

"Thank goodness," Watson drawled, laughing a little. "It's good practice for all sorts of things, isn't it?" He was already feeling sluggish and relaxed, and after everything else, it was somewhat of a relief.

Once in the safety and familiar comfort of Holmes's room -- strange, in a way, that it was such a thing now -- Watson sank down gratefully onto the bed. He closed his eyes, relaxing into the influence of the drug.

"Still," he said, drowsily, "I wouldn't mind giving this chap a little of his own medicine."

[mustbethetruth]

Holmes's expression shifts rather dramatically from the fond thing it had been to something darker and much more vicious. He clenches his jaw as he turns from Watson and crosses to his windows to pull the curtains shut tightly.

"Yes, well. Tomorrow you and I will investigate the house," he says, trying to sound matter-of-fact and keep the murderous feelings out of his voice. "The evidence should be mostly intact. We'll find him." And then Holmes will see to it that he's punished for hurting his Watson.

Turning back around, he undoes Watson's collar and sets it aside.

"How are you feeling now?"

[lightconductor]

"Mmm." Watson considered this question, far more seriously than was strictly necessary. He leaned towards Holmes, rather passive about having his collar removed, but enjoying the experience. "Fogged," he said at last, "but that's not entirely a bad thing."

He leaned forward, ghosting a brief kiss against Holmes's lips before dropping his head down on his shoulder. He ached, but it was removed, through a haze of morphine. Possibly he would care more about tracking down this gunman tomorrow, but for now, it was a distant concern.

"I'm sorry we were unable to go after him tonight," he said. "At least we have the bullet. It might be helpful."

[mustbethetruth]

Watson's presence against him is steadying and helps to chase away the dark desire for vengeance, at least for now. He lays his hand against Watson's hair, stroking it tenderly as he undoes his waistcoat and shirt.

"Yes, I'm sure it will." It's annoying, yes, that he couldn't pursue their gunman tonight, but the comforting thing about being himself is that he can be confident he will track the bastard down and make him pay. He's Sherlock Holmes; that's his job.

He pulls away from Watson to work his shirt off, being careful not to jostle him or the bandages too much; he tosses the clothes away and cups Watson's head, drawing him in for a gentle kiss, before he sinks to his knees to untie his shoes.

"If this is our snake assassin, I must detract points from his creativity."

[lightconductor]

"This is rather less unique an attempt to kill us," Watson murmured, giving a vague laugh. He smiled down at Holmes, finding a certain guilty enjoyment in having his shoes removed for him. "I'm not sure what option is better, really: that our friend has decided to kill us in a far more pedestrian way than his previous attempt, or that there's two entirely separate people out to kill us."

Was this the nature of their lives? Always dangerous, always on the edge? He had expected a safe, quiet life when he'd returned to London; it had been anything but. He loved every minute of it, truthfully.

[mustbethetruth]

"Perhaps the snake was a warning," Holmes murmurs, thoughtful, as he reaches for Watson's flies. "A sinister greeting that might have conveniently killed us, but was more designed to set us on edge. To give us an idea of what type of foe we're facing. Now, the more serious attempts on our lives begin."

With that fatalistic pronouncement, he lifts his gaze to Watson.

"Lie back."

[lightconductor]

"Normally," Watson chuckled, drowsily, "when you tell me something like that, it has rather a sinister connotation. Would you take advantage of me in the state I'm in now?" But he laid back, inhaling the smells he was surrounded with, smells of Holmes, of comfort and being loved. Perhaps he was a bit loopy from the morphine, but he hardly cared just now.

"If the snake was a warning," he said, looking up at the ceiling, "it was a rather oblique one."

[mustbethetruth]

"My darling, normally I would love to distract you with sex, but we're in the middle of a serious conversation here," he teases and reaches for the waist of Watson's trousers. "Please, do try to keep your focus."

He tugs Watson's trousers off, mulling over this idea of a warning and a proper assassination attempt. Yes, the snake is a rather ridiculous and eccentric warning, but what other type would you send to Sherlock Holmes, if you knew him to be your enemy? The attempt on their lives tonight was dull, yes, and straightforward, but it'd been utilitarian. The attempt was on Watson's life, and once Holmes crowded Watson's space, shielded him, got too near, then the assassin didn't try to finish the job.

Someone wants to get through to Holmes.

"Perhaps its meaning will become clear," he murmurs, and he stands back to start shedding some layers of his own. "Would you care for anything else, my dear Watson? More brandy, a cigarette?"

[lightconductor]

"Yes. I require you, here, where I can be assured that we're both still alive and in one piece. More or less."

Watson shifted comfortably, pulling the covers over himself, and settling into a position that did not put undue pressure on his latest injury.

"And I will try to stay focused as best as I can, but for the official record, you started it." He gave a small, throaty chuckle. "If someone is suddenly making a serious effort to kill us -- and that isn't anything new to me, for what it's worth, I've had thousands of Ghazis out for my blood, what's one more man? -- if someone is, what shall we do now?"